


Finger on the Trigger

by Jinniyah



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bondage, Community: eleventy_kink, F/M, Gunplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinniyah/pseuds/Jinniyah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Eleven has an inner gun-kink he isn't aware of yet. River fully takes advantage of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finger on the Trigger

'I know I'm a little late to the rescue.' River stares down at the Doctor with a trademark teasing smile. 'But I'm here now, so stop pouting, sweetie, before the wind changes and your face sets that way forever.'

Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing; a pout looks good on him. Especially like this, when his hands are yanked back and firmly manacled to the bed posts. There's something about a helpless, pouty Doctor that tugs at River's libido in all sorts of delicious ways. The Doctor doesn't know that yet, of course; once he does, he won't be above milking for all its worth.

'Where is everyone?' the Doctor complains, tugging pathetically at his bonds.

'Well, the goons who kidnapped you have been whisked away into custody by some nice police officers – I said I'd free you and bring us along to make our statements later today.'

'They believed you?'

'Oh, I can be awfully persuasive.'

'Hallucinogenic lipstick, I suppose,' the Doctor mutters, pursing his own lips with disapproval. 'Amy and Rory?'

'Still on the Whispering Crystal Grotto tour boat and blissfully unaware of your predicament.'

'Good.' The Doctor regards her expectantly. River regards him right back, waiting for him to crack. Which – right on cue - he duly does. 'River! Are you going to let me go?'

'Maybe. I'm enjoying the view.' Indeed she is. His face is adorably indignant and he's wriggling quite nicely in the handcuffs, which has the added bonus of disarranging his hair even more. Helpless, pouty, _dishevelled_ Doctor. River mentally ticks off another kink.

'Maybe? Maybe?! River, I've been chained up and threatened by ... well, by amateurs, actually, but it still wasn't much fun ... and now I'd really like –'

'Some fun?' River arches an eyebrow. 'That can be arranged.'

'Fun? With me like this?' She lets him think through what he's just said. 'Oh. _Oh!_ So what sort of fun would that be, then?'

He's intrigued. That's good. 'Well, right now, Doctor, you're actually my prisoner, so I can do what I want with you. Is that starting to sound like fun to you?'

'Um. Maybe? I don't know. It's the handcuffs, isn't it? You have a thing about them.' Just for a moment, she catches a glimpse of something inexplicably sad in his eyes and then it's gone again.

' _We_ have a thing about handcuffs,' she corrects him. 'You'll see.' She takes her gun out of its holster and he eyes it askance.

'I don't like guns. Guns aren't fun. They're ... guns. Shooting and hurting and killing ... things.'

'Which you find dangerous but rather sexy in certain situations.'

'I do not!'

'I shouldn't like that. Kinda do, a bit.' River does the air quotes.

The Doctor looks a little shifty. 'Oh, that. _That_. What I meant was –'

'I know exactly what you meant. Rather better than you, in fact.' She taps the sleek metal barrel of her current weapon against her lips. 'Now, Doctor, I'm going to show you just how much fun guns can be.' With a bright smile, she seats herself on the bed next to him and places a hand on his thigh. He twitches, just a little.

'River ...'

'Doctor. Shall I continue?' River moves her hand casually up his thigh. His eyes widen to almost comical effect. 'You're older now. I thought it was a good time, but if you're nervous – '

' _Nervous_? Of course I'm not nervous! Not at all. I'm a Time Lord, I walk in eternity. Do I look like I'm nervous? No! Don't answer that!'

She stops his babbling quite simply by pressing the gun – the dangerous, sexy gun – across his lips. He swallows hard, and goes quiet.

She knows the Doctor's mind is a vast storehouse of knowledge and secrets. She also knows some of it has a tendency to go missing over the years, which may account for how little he appears to know about sex. On the plus side, this does give her the opportunity of initiating a currently clueless Doctor into the full ramifications of his little gun kink. No kisses, no romance. Just him handcuffed to an old bed in a ratty little hotel room, and her with the gun.

She clicks off the safety catch and rams the muzzle up under his chin. His head snaps back, and she can almost taste the shock on his face.

'Fear is an aphrodisiac, Doctor. Don't tell me you, of all people, don't know that.' She eases up the pressure just a fraction and leans over him, one hand resting on his thigh. He's tense - like an animal ready to take flight? Oh, she very much hopes not. 'Any time you want this to stop, you can say 'spoilers' and I'll end it. But if you don't, well ... ' She shrugs. 'Your choice. Say the word or suck it, sweetie.'

The Doctor hesitates for several seconds. His eyes never leave her face, and she wonders what he sees there, this younger Doctor who doesn't really know her at all. Later in his life, he'll read her like an open book and tease her about it with great delight. What goes around comes around.

Then – finally – he picks up the gauntlet she's thrown down. He slips out his tongue and flicks it delicately around the cold, hard muzzle.

'That's right, Doctor,' she says, a sudden heat flaring low in her belly. 'Suck my cock. Because that's what my gun is, you see. It's my great big phallic symbol, and I want you to give me the best damn blow job ever.'

He twists his head away, a sudden fear in his eyes. 'I can't! You took off the safety, it's dangerous, it's–"

'Yes!' She straddles him in a flurry of movement, fisting her free hand in his hair, stroking the gun gently across his face . 'That's the whole point, my love. Tell me you get that.'

'I –' He rubs his face against the gun, like a cat returning a caress, and shivers. He's still afraid, and he damn well should be, but she sees a familiar spark in his eyes now. Like the Elephant's Child, he's a creature of "satiable curtiosity", his true weakness and his greatest strength. ' All right,' he breathes. 'Show me.'

He sweeps his tongue once over his lips and then parts them, opening up, giving himself to her.

And she takes what he offers without a second thought.

She fucks his mouth, his pretty, needy mouth, with her cold, hard gun – her cock – and hears the metal catch against his teeth at each pass until he grasps what he should be doing. When he susses it out, finally curling his lips over his teeth and sucking on the muzzle, she starts to thrust in deeper, pressing the rigid, unforgiving barrel between his slick, soft lips, driving further inside him, tickling his throat. He's sweating and flushed, his hair hanging limply over his face, and she sees in his eyes how aware he is of the danger, knowing that with two flicks of a manicured finger she could blow off his head.

At one point he flinches and makes a small sound, like he's in pain or about to retch, and she pauses, most of the gun still wedged in his mouth. 'I know you can't talk. If this is too much, close your eyes and I'll stop.'

His eyes remain open. She smiles.

There's a word - _frisson_ \- that comes nowhere near close enough to describing the intensity of this gut-churning thrill of being on the edge of life and death. But she doesn't have to explain anything to the Doctor. Not anymore. He knows. He's pinned under her and, beneath his clothes, she can feel his erection growing, nudging against the ache between her legs.

She lets go of the Doctor's hair, sits back on her heels and hitches her skirt up around her waist, cramming it under her utility belt. When she finally gets a finger to her crotch, her clit is throbbing and the silky fabric of her knickers already soaked through.

'See how wet I am? You need to suck harder, Doctor. Go on. Make me come.' She pumps the gun, making the hard, thick metal slide in and out of his perfect, pouting lips. Impatiently, she tugs down her knickers and the Doctor jerks his hips, making a harsh noise in the back of his throat as she spreads herself open and exposes herself fully to him.

She rocks her body, jerking her middle finger against her clit, but she knows it won't be quite enough. She has to have something more than that. Not the Doctor. Not yet. One of the few rare spoilers he'd ever let slip is enough to confirm that this is the wrong time and the wrong place. But what she needs is held tight in her other hand and, without hesitation, she pulls the gun free from the Doctor's mouth, shoving its length between her thighs until the muzzle is resting right where she wants it most.

She presses it, slippery with the Doctor's saliva, hard against her clit and ruts against the gun until suddenly her legs are shaking and she's coming, throwing back her head and groaning deep in her throat at the sweet, sharp waves coursing through her. 'Holy fuck, yes ....!'

'River ...' The Doctor gasps, flushed and almost entirely lost for words as she shakes back her hair and leans in over him. He's open-mouthed and trembling and so hard at her little display, she needs to put the gun down and use both hands to unfasten his braces and clothing, trying not to touch him because she's sure it'll take very little to bring him off and it isn't time yet.

'Focus on your breathing, big boy,' she orders, tugging trousers and underwear down past his knees. 'You do not have my permission to come yet.'

In spite of his discomfort, he smirks at "big boy", as she knew he would. No false modesty for her Doctor, no matter where he is in his time line. She spreads his knees apart. She's forgotten how gorgeous he always looks like this. That starchy tweed jacket, spotless white shirt and idiotic bow tie are nicely prim and proper, but the rest of him is a picture of utter wantonness: his cock's standing to attention, and the heat in his eyes feels like it's singeing her skin. When he looks at her like this, he'd tempt a saint to sin.

'This is my cock, remember?' she says, retrieving the gun and leaning forward. 'I fucked your mouth with it. I fucked myself with it. That makes it your turn.'

The metal has cooled while it was laid aside, but the barrel is still slick with her juices. River starts by teasing the gun across the Doctor's heavy balls, gently at first and then with a little more pressure when it becomes obvious he likes it. She drags the muzzle under his shaft, and slides it up and down the full length of him. Before long, he's slack-jawed and shivering; his eyes are heavy-lidded and dark with lust and he keeps saying her name over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer, and she can't help drawing out the moment for him, wanting to bottle it up, and keep it close for those dreadful, dead times in Stormcage, a memory of what she means to him.

River stills her hand when she knows he's close to climax and then he begs. Oh God, he _begs_ and his voice is hoarse and frantic, and he's rubbing himself up against the hard, wicked metal, and if he remembers what it is and what could do to him, it's only making him want it more.

'Hush,' she says softly. 'It's time.'

River and the Doctor. Hand, cock and gun. She brings them together, her warm hand one side of his shaft, the cooler, smooth gun against the other, setting up a delicious friction, stroking him from root to tip. And when he starts gasping incoherently, she touches the muzzle to the underside of his cock, where the head meets the shaft, and gently holds it there, letting him see her finger – rock-steady – on the trigger of the gun. Then she watches the unholy light in the Doctor's eyes as he comes, pulsing in milk-white splashes over her hands and over the gun.

River thinks of all the legends of Gods of old who painted their semen across the heavens and seeded the stars. Gods. Time Lords. At this distance, maybe only the Doctor can tell the difference. Maybe there isn't any.

Breathing hard, she sits back on her heels. Then she carefully flicks the safety back into position before wiping her hands, and the gun, as best she can on the bedding and returning the gun to her holster.

'I didn't know,' the Doctor says, his breath ragged as he watches her through half-closed eyes. His trousers and underwear are still bunched up under his knees, his cock limp between his naked thighs, but it doesn't seem to bother him. 'I didn't know that was the sort of thing I liked.'

'Ah well, there's a lot you don't know about your sexuality right now.' River stands up, adjusting her skirts, and pulls the lock picks out of her utility belt. 'You'll learn.'

'I'm sure you'll see to that.' There's a tiny smile on his lips as she moves to unfasten the cuffs. His hands released, he sits up and pulls them down by his side with a small grimace. 'Ow.'

River leans over him and puts her hands on his shoulders, massaging out the cramp while the Doctor pokes at the raw rings circling his wrist, wipes some stray semen off his stomach, and blinks. After a moment, he sighs. Then he reaches up and takes one of River's hands, pulling it to his face. With a look of intense concentration, he turns her hand palm upwards, snuffs at it briefly and then licks his tongue across the warm skin. River shivers.

'Interesting.' The Doctor's tone of voice suggests he genuinely is fascinated. 'I can taste you. And me. And a tiny hint of gun. Very metal-ly, guns. Sharp.'

'So what do I taste like?' River asks curiously.

The Doctor swipes his tongue over her palm again, taking longer this time and licking his lips. 'Well, I'm getting sugar and spice, but with less of the sugar and pretty heavy on the spice. You're zingy. Rather tart, in fact.'

'I hate you.'

'No, you don't.'

River twists in his grip and pulls the Doctor's hand up to her own lips, running her tongue over his cool, sticky skin. She closes her eyes and lets the scent and tang of him enter her mouth, her mind, her heart. And then she opens her eyes and smiles.

He smiles right back. 'Tell me, what do I taste of, River Song?'

'You taste of stars and secrets, my love,' she says. 'Of gods and monsters. And of all the things that ever were and will never be.'

~fin~


End file.
